


Those who notice

by Astre_Red



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astre_Red/pseuds/Astre_Red
Summary: The Underground is full of mysteries. You know about them, and even solved some. That soulless flower, or that dead child for example. And some you try and try to understand with the few hints you have in hand. It's a bit funny, how proud you are of these mysteries. How you keep them close to yourself, like a secret, like it's only for you to solve.(Did you really think no one noticed?)
Kudos: 16





	Those who notice

The Underground is full of mysteries. You know about them, and even solved some. That soulless flower, or that dead child for example. And some you try and try to understand with the few hints you have in hand. It's a bit funny, how proud you are of these mysteries. How you keep them close to yourself, like a secret, like it's only for you to solve.

(Did you really think no one noticed?)

* * *

There's a story, about monsters and humans. There's a story, about war and revenge. There's a story, about life and death.

There's a story, about Mount Ebott.

Children fall. They don't come back, of course. No one ever does. They lack the thing that could save their life. I think you know what I'm talking about.

Seven children fall, and none come back, for none have what is required.

And then, the eighth comes. And, well, you already know the rest, don't you? So it doesn't really matter.

(That's not true, isn't it?)

* * *

There are whispers in the wind, whispers unheard by most. The human walks in the Underground. Sometimes their eyes are closed, sometimes they are open and bright red. Well, it's not like it matters. No one remembers, so no one understands.

(Well, it's not quite true.)

* * *

Here is what no one knows. Some wakes up, looks around them, and _remembers_.

Oh, I'm not talking about that tiny flower with its cruel smirk. I'm not talking about this judge with the blue hoodie, who listens and looks and stays quiet. I'm not even talking about the little human (or humans? Really, it depends).

I'm talking about those you never cared about. Those you didn't bother to fight.

I'm talking about those who hear things, and stay quiet.

* * *

There's a ghost in Waterfall. I think you know who I'm talking about.

They cry often, but no one cares enough to ask why. Maybe they think they already know. Maybe they gaze at the empty house next to theirs and make assumptions. They're right, but also deadly wrong.

The ghost remembers a kind and shy child asking about nails. They remember someone lying next to them, feeling like trash but feeling good all the same. They remember a bright light, and silence, and loudness and happiness.

But this, this is what you don't know. The ghost remembers others things too. They remember bright red eyes, smirking, but also angry. They remember a knife. They remember feeling afraid, but not for themselves. They remember silence, and nothing else. They remember dust.

Sometimes, when they wander across Waterfall, they see grey people. They wander too, and the ghost doesn't dare to approach them. They speak in riddles and of things forgotten and forbidden, but the ghost hears it. They remember their words, but don't understand.

Sometimes there's a grey door. There's someone waving, black and strangely motionless and speaking in hands. They talk, waving hands and quiet whispers. The ghost doesn't see anything strange with that. And if someone were to ask, they would explain it gladly.

But no one asks, so they don't tell.

* * *

Time is a capricious thing. It's different for everyone. Is it too slow, or does it advance too fast for us to follow? No one can truly understand it, human or monster.

There's a flower who played with time. There's a child -green or purple, does it matter?- who plays with it. There's a skeleton who tries to understand.

Maybe he remembers. Maybe he doesn't. He stays quiet in both cases, so it doesn't really matter. After all, no one remembers.

(Well, that too, isn't quite true.)

* * *

Everyone knows about the Riverperson. At least, they think they do.

They're a mystery, even for you, right? It's quite interesting.

A child sits on their boat and asks them to take them here and there. Hot or cold, it doesn't matter. After all, the Riverperson can go everywhere.

Sometimes the child's hands are clean, and they hold a stick and smile brightly at them. Other times their smile is a bit too cold, their hands too dusty and their eyes too bright. The toy in their hands isn't a toy at all.

But the Riverperson stay quiet. They stay quiet about a lot of things.

Spiders like spiders. A man speaks in hands, and doesn't exist anymore. A secret lab hidden behind a house.

There's so many things they know, way more than you. That Angel, that flower, them, you. Because they know about you, you know? Did you ever notice?

(Somewhere, it's... So be careful.)

The Riverperson stay with the grey child crying on the dock, when they can. They rarely talk to each other, just sit together in front of the water. Sometimes, they're holding an umbrella.

The man who comes from the other world looks at them. They wave. Maybe they even talk, in their own way. Maybe they know secrets you can only dream to know.

Well, that doesn't really matter.

(Not yet, at least.)

* * *

There's a dog, too.

(A dog. Or is it god? That's so confusing.)

You know about him, of course. Everyone does. That annoying, little white dog. Sometimes he's walking around, sometimes he's playing, programming something. I bet you wonder what. Everyone knows him, but few understands. You're a fool if you think you're the latter.

But you have always been a fool, haven't you?


End file.
